


The Eternal Hero

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-06
Updated: 2007-02-06
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: She was dressed in her robes and twirling in front of him, smiling like she used to when she and Lavender would whisper about divination and lean forward to check out Harry Potter’s bottom.She smiled like a girl of thirteen.





	The Eternal Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_The Eternal Hero  
_

When she fell in love with him, she was seventeen and crying in his arms about Lavender Brown’s summertime death.

It was the beginning of war in that moment and it was the first time ever she had seen him strong and courageous. He wiped her tears away, gently rubbed his fingers along her cheeks and his pointer finger under her nose, and he told her that _life_ will triumph.

And in a place where death was slowly becoming a mundane event, life was _everything_.

She had never given him a second thought before that moment.

After that, he seemed to stand up taller to her. His eyes seemed to sparkle and his smile held the brightness of any room, and she found she _had_ to be near him. She needed his confidence. She just needed to hear his voice

When she knew for sure she loved him, she was graduating from Hogwarts.

She was dressed in her robes and twirling in front of him, smiling like she used to when she and Lavender would whisper about divination and lean forward to check out Harry Potter’s bottom.

She smiled like a girl of thirteen.

He told her she looked beautiful.

She has heard that so many times in her life for she has always been a beauty for any one’s standards. But when he said it, she believed it.

She ran into his arms, hugged him ferociously because tomorrow… tomorrow was so fearful. Tomorrow she would leave any security she had ever known since this horror started and a part of her knew she couldn’t do it with out him.

So she asked him to marry her.

“Please, please I need you. Forever I need you.” She slowly went onto her knees as she spoke and looked up at him with the eyes of one touched by war. He lifted her off the ground, stared at her as if he couldn’t believe the moment was real, and said yes. One simple word and her life was perfect again.

Two weeks later, they were married. She declined ceremony. She declined the pretty dress of her dreams and the magical decorations that would make her wedding feel like a fairytale. She had spent so many years being a superficial kid that when she finally grew up, her love for the world surprised her more then anything.

They were married on a Scottish beach. There was a cliff overlooking the ocean below. It was windy and the water splashed on the jagged rocks and her hair flew every where, but it was better then anything she imagined.

Because in all her dreams she could have never pictured _him_ as her groom. In all her dreams she would have never thought she could love _him._

But she did, more then anything else in this world.

And then he decided it was his turn to fight in the war.

She was angry at him when she heard. She cursed his name for leaving her. She told him he was foolish, that he of all people wouldn’t be able to help. She told him she wouldn’t mourn him when he was gone.

And then she collapsed onto the floor and cried her heart out because her world was about to walk out the front door.

And she knew, _knew_ that nothing, no amount of love or tears or logic would stop him.

She knew that this was his destiny. It was in his eyes, a fire, a need for revenge that burned within him until he could no longer ignore the war’s call.

He _had_ to fight.  


They had two months of marital bliss before he left. Both were only eighteen, children playing a part of maturity that they were still learning. Children, that was it, yet they had a world of responsibility on their shoulders. **_All_ of them did!**

When he said good bye she wouldn’t look at him. He had to take her chin in his fingers and lift her face up so he could look in her eyes. They were glazed with ungushed tears. That, of all moments, she wanted to remain strong for him. She wanted to send him off with a hug and a bright smile as he promised that he would be home soon. She wanted him to remember her in a moment of happiness. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

But there was no bright smile and no promise. Just the feel of darkness interrupting their haven and clawing its way into their love as he kissed her lips softly and said goodbye.

It took all her strength not to chase him through the door.

And then she waited.

She waited for news, waited for an attack, waited for him to come home, bruised but smiling because the good fight was won. She waited to be able to start her life again.

And then he died, in battle, beside Harry Potter himself. 

Unlike their wedding, his funeral was filled with all the ceremony due to a wizard.

He was a hero, did you know that?

Not like Harry or Dumbledore were heroes, but that other breed. Behind the scenes, righteous zeal, the fight from the pain that he kept hidden from the world.

Neville was _that_ kind of hero.

Mourners from all over the wizarding world came to pay respects to the wife of the brave boy who saved the life of the Boy Who Lived.

His funeral was an event solidified by the tears of a whole nation.

The night before, she took her favorite picture of them together and burnt it. It was one of them in Scotland. The rain falling down and her laugh brightening up every inch of her face. His lips never left her cheek.

She watched as it was slowly eaten by the magical flame from her wand. The edges curled, her smile disappeared, and his face was the last thing she saw before she sent the ashes up to heaven.

She sent her love up with it. To him. To show that always, always she would be thinking about him. Always she would love him.

The day of his funeral nature felt the day’s pain and the sun stayed away. She dressed in black, a heavy veil covering her face, and she walked in front of snake of mourners to his grave. Each mourner carried a long, white candle in their hands. That day, they lit of the sky with the candles of life.

The candles ensured, that even in death, his soul could go on forever.

The wind rang with a solemn mourning song:

_“To the heavens let your soul fly,_  
_And look upon your new life with all our eyes._  
_Soon you’ll forget the days now past,  
_

_And this new life shall be your last.”_

Their words rang through the centuries. Their voices sounded as those of the past and would be the same as those mourners to come.

And she stood, at the head of them, silent and still as she clutched a big red rose tightly in her hands. She laid it at his grave. A magic rose that will never die to symbolize the eternity of his life. The eternity of her love for him.

The mourners stood around the grave, silent with only the songs of nature ringing in their ears. 

She was allotted the honor of standing beside Harry Potter.

She clutched his hand with dear life as he brought her fingers to his lips in a comforting embrace and looked at her with his brooding, emerald eyes.

And she knew that Harry had grown to love Neville very much.

She could have loved him for that alone.

Wizarding funerals have no service, no stranger to eulogize the dead’s life.

Instead, each person gets a moment to remember why they loved Neville. Why _he_ had such an impact on their life.

Slowly the mourners turned and left. Leaving only the newly widowed Parvati and Harry Potter standing together at the grave of one of the most heroic wizards.

They stood their together for hours even as night fell and the temperature turned close to freezing.

Neither could take their eyes from Neville’s grave.

“He’ll be loved for centuries to come, won’t he, Harry?” she had whispered as her left hand crept under her veil to wipe away stray tears.

“He’ll be remembered always.”

Harry put his arms around her shoulders, she leaned in to him for any strength and comfort she could get, and they walked away.

There was no solace in the end of the war.

There was only the hope for the future that her husband made possible and the Harry would spread.

Hope that lived within those two boys. One, hope lived in every word and every glance, and the other, hope lived within the memories of the lost hero of the Wizarding World.

She took some comfort in that.

That in some way, Neville’s life would be everlasting. In the mind’s of wizards for ages to come his name would be spoken as much as Harry’s. His memory would be just as cherished.

_In some ways_ , she thought as she left the graveyard, _Neville will never die_.

And the next day, life went on.

End (Parvati and Neville if you didn’t get that)

Was for the challenge but blah, im not a competitive person.

I like the pairing because most likely it will NEVER happen and I’m not delusional enough to think it would. But it could be sweet ya no.

(and this is in no way my thoughts on how book 7 will end. I personally think Harry will die lol! We’ll see.. ps. I did not mean to write lol, how morbid was that.)

Disclaimer: it’s all JK Rowlings

 


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